


True Aim

by alynwa



Series: Picfic Tuesday Challenge [4]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-29
Updated: 2013-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-27 09:44:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/660496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alynwa/pseuds/alynwa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally written for Picfic Tuesday on Livejournal.  The guys try to one up each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	True Aim

Mark, April, Illya and Napoleon were enjoying a rare leisurely lunch in the Commissary.  Somehow, the conversation had drifted around to childhood hobbies and pleasures and when Mark mentioned that he had enjoyed archery, even the normally reticent Russian had mentioned that he had been taught how to use a bow and arrow as a child.

Napoleon waggled his eyebrows, winked at April and inquired innocently, “I’m surprised that the State would allow its children to play a good old American game of Cowboys and Indians.”

“Arrogant American, what makes you think…” Illya stopped as Napoleon burst out laughing at him.  “You are, what is the expression, grabbing my rope?”

“It’s ‘yanking your chain’ and yes, I was.  I happen to know that the bow and arrow have been used in Russia for thousands of years.”

Illya sipped his coffee as he listened to his partner speak.  “I am impressed, Napoleon.  What else do you know?”

Grinning sheepishly, he replied, “Admittedly, not much more except that an archer is called a _luchnik,_ the bow is called a _luk_ and the rest of the equipment is called _saadak_ and the bows could be made from wood like juniper and birch or from the horns of large animals.  Oh, I also know one other thing:  I could outshoot you and Mark.”

“’Ow did I get dragged into your macho posturing, Mate?  No matter.  I was quite good as a lad.  I know I’m a bit rusty, but with a little practice, I know I’m better than you _and_ your partner there.”

Illya looked from one man to the other and then settled his gaze on April.  “It is obvious that both your partner and mine are suffering delusions of grandeur.  They both learned archery as a sport while I learned it as a survival skill.  There was a time in my life when if I did not catch dinner, I did not _eat_ dinner.  Neither one of them can outshoot me.”

“Boys, boys, there’s no need to get yourselves into an uproar.  I know for a fact that there are bows, arrows and archery targets stored in the shooting range.  Let’s go resolve this right now.  The winner gets treated to drinks and dinner at the restaurant of his choice by the losers.”

Her three lunch companions nodded agreement and they bussed their table and then headed off to the sub – basement.  When they arrived, April took the arm of each agent and guided him to his own lane.  She then retrieved the equipment from the storage locker and distributed a bow and five arrows to each man.  Finally, she entered the range and placed a target at the opposite end of their lanes plus one additional lane. 

When she rejoined them she said, “You will each use four of your arrows to practice.  When you are finished, you will each shoot at this target and whoever hits the bull’s-eye or comes closest to it will be the winner.”  She stood back and watched them take their practice shots.  When they had finished, they turned to face her.

Relishing her role as the leader of this little exercise she announced, “You will shoot in reverse chronological order.  Mark, you’re the newest agent; you go first.”

He strode confidently up to the counter with his bow and arrow, took careful aim and let the arrow fly.  His arrow landed high and to the right, approximately one inch away from the center of the bull’s-eye.  “Blast!” he snorted in disgust as Illya came alongside him grinning.

“I think I can beat that,” he opined as he prepared to shoot.  His arrow embedded itself about an inch left of the bull’s-eye center.  “ _Chyort!_ ”

Napoleon had been watching with his hands shoved into his pants pockets while he rocked on his heels and toes.  “This is too easy.  Sardi’s, here we come.”  Unfortunately for the senior agent, his shot was the worst with the arrow hitting the target below and farthest away from the bull’s-eye, a fact that caused his competitors to laugh derisively.  “I don’t believe it,” he groaned.

“April Luv,” Mark chuckled, “you check to see whose arrow is closer to the center: Mine or Illya’s.”

The Russian said, “I trust you, April, to make the final determination of the winner.”

She smiled.  “Good.”  Reaching over to take the bow from Mark’s hand, she pulled an arrow from the storage locker and stepped up to the firing line.  “I can see from here that Mark’s and Illya’s arrows are basically equidistant from the center.”  She fit the arrow onto the bow and lifted it to aim.  “Did I ever mention to you that I was an archery champion in college and all the way back to summer camp?” she asked as she let go of the bowstring and her arrow flew unerringly straight into the center of the bull’s-eye.  “I believe we have a clear winner now.”

Mouths open, the three men gaped at her until Mark commented, “That was a mighty ‘uge slice of ‘umble pie you served us, Luv.”

“But not as huge a slice as the cheesecake they serve at Junior’s.  That’s where you three are taking me for dinner.”

Illya began to lead the way out of the range.  “Gentlemen, I believe we have been had.”

Napoleon grinned, “I guess I can say now that I have finally been had by April Dancer.  Was it good for you, too?”  He just managed to avoid the punch she threw.


End file.
